


Heart of (Rusted) Steel

by carzla



Series: Jar of (Broken) Hearts [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU, DCU (Movies), Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carzla/pseuds/carzla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Plan had been simple. Get close to Superman. Find out what made him tick. Do reconnaissance. There hadn't been, well, that was a lie, but he hadn't expected that faking a romantic relationship would come into play. That part of the whole situation, Bruce could admit, probably hadn't been for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of (Rusted) Steel

**Author's Note:**

> So the first part of the series, in Clark's POV, was written before _Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice_ was released, and although by the time I finished Bruce's POV, I'd already watched the movie, this story contains no spoilers for BvS. This was always meant to be a canon divergence AU anyway. But oh my gosh, it was _soooo_ tempting to use some parts of the movie's events for this fic.
> 
> Thank you to Lyrial for beta-ing! This is also a good 2K words longer than Clark's POV, because I clearly have more experience writing in the POVs of intelligent but emotionally constipated billionaire playboy idiots... Enjoy? xP

Alfred had not been best pleased when he caught wind of Bruce’s plans. His butler had already put up as much of a fuss as one could expect Alfred to put up in that prim and proper, quintessentially British way of his when Bruce announced, over breakfast, that Batman was coming out of retirement. That had been a few days after the alien showdown that had flattened so much of Metropolis and killed so many (five thousand two hundred and twenty) of her people.

Standing at ground zero in Metropolis that fateful day… it had been a long time since Bruce had felt this small, had felt so insignificant and helpless. He had been unable to do anything but watch as buildings collapsed around him, to watch the Wayne Enterprises’ Metropolis headquarters fall without even close to half of his employees having been safely evacuated. Even managing to save and comfort the distraught child amidst the debris of fallen buildings hadn’t helped.

It had made him angry. Furious.

The last time he’d felt that way, had felt this level of hopelessness and helplessness… It had been when the Joker had killed Jason and Bruce had gotten to the scene too late to do anything but find the body. He’d stopped being Batman then, because he had failed to protect a member of his family yet again. And unlike when his parents had been killed in front of his eyes, this time, he hadn’t had the excuse of being a child. So what good was the Batman if the Bat couldn’t even save his own?

But Metropolis had proven him wrong. It had been a mistake to retire. It seemed that now, more than ever, there needed to be someone to be able to stop others from preying on humanity. Batman needed to be back in the game. Batman needed to start from ground zero and then work his way up to the big threat – Superman.

It had been sometime later when Alfred realized he was gathering information on Superman, trying to track down the alien. Who was being rather maddeningly elusive for someone who dressed in bright blue and had a flowing red cape. Bruce had tried hacking into military satellites and communications, but all he had learned from that endeavor was that Superman had been actively removing the satellites that were meant to track him and so the military still knew next to nothing about one half of the alien-wrought destruction that had befallen Metropolis.

At the very least, that meant that this Superman entity was smart enough to know that the US military, and thus the government, was looking into him.

All that meant to Bruce, however, was that he was going to get creative. Not that it was particularly hard to find that alternative route to Superman: Lois Lane.

He had already determined Superman’s civilian identity by the time Alfred had learned about his plans, the true reason why he’d decided to have the Batman come out of retirement. It was the closest he had ever come to seeing Alfred lose his composure and his temper. But Alfred was always loyal, and had eventually gone along with it, if only to _“ensure that Master Bruce does not get himself killed, though not for lack of trying”_.

However, despite helping him in his nocturnal activities as Batman, Alfred still maintained a lot of disapproval towards the Clark Kent/Superman situation. He hadn’t approved of how Bruce basically had a corner of the Cave dedicated to nothing but monitoring Clark Kent’s activities, as well as Superman’s activities, twenty-four-seven. But Batman could get obsessive about his objectives, his mission. In this case, Superman was the target, and he needed all the data he could get. Even if that meant gross invasions of privacy. Alfred should be proud that he hadn’t bugged or placed hidden cameras in the bathroom of Kent’s apartment in Metropolis and that there was already minimal surveillance in his childhood home in Smallville.

Bruce didn’t understand why Alfred was so against him taking precautions – extreme precautions, maybe, but he was _Batman_ – against Superman. The destruction of Metropolis alone was enough to warrant a high level of wariness at the very, very least. After analyzing all the footage he could find of that event, he had determined that Superman had been new to whatever he thought he was trying to achieve by battling it out with another Kryptonian in a densely populated city. Bruce could acknowledge that Superman had most likely had good intentions – some would say that Superman was saving the world – but Superman was so new to this he hadn’t even considered moving the battleground when he could perfectly well _fly._

Defending humanity was one thing, but to do it untrained? Against a far more prepared opposition? That was a disaster waiting to happen.

Oh _wait_. Look at Metropolis.

It didn’t get much better for Bruce when he looked up Clark Kent. The picture he was getting of Kent was that he had been an outcast, because the people of Smallville, and especially their children, had been exceptionally good at picking up that Kent was somehow different and not in a good way. He read school reports about how Kent was always quiet, had some attention span issues, and maybe the boy could socialize a little more? There were even some about children bullying shy, quiet Clark Kent who never ever hit back. Even as Kent grew older, he still kept mostly to himself, choosing to be isolated even when he made a meandering road trip across America.

Clark Kent didn’t have much of a social circle. His only true connection to humanity was the family who’d adopted him, and Kent had already lost his adoptive father. There wasn’t much tying Kent to Earth, to humans… and if Kent meant them harm in the future or if he just snapped, well, Superman had already demonstrated how much destructive capability Kryptonians had. Bruce didn’t think it truly mattered in the end if it was one Kryptonian or a small but elite military troop of Kryptonians.

All of that led Bruce, led Batman to his single-minded mission to have a way to contain Superman, to find out about his weaknesses. And he couldn’t get that from second-hand data, because there just wasn’t anyone close enough to Kent for him to reveal any of those information. Other than, perhaps, one Lois Lane. It was, however, highly unlikely for her to reveal anything willing, so Bruce would need to do something about it personally.

Which he did.

The Plan had even been off to a good start. He had easily managed to capture Clark Kent’s interest. All of the years of staying out of the public eye after Jason’s death had, unexpectedly, served his purposes. Certainly Clark Kent wasn’t the only reporter to notice that he was different from the Bruce Wayne of ten years ago. They wouldn’t know that _that_ Bruce Wayne had been an elaborately constructed persona and was nothing like him. Arguably, the Bruce Wayne he had been showing the media that night was closer to his true self. But the contrast, the perceived change, would make any reporter worth his or her salt take note.

It had been kind of unexpected, the angle in which Clark Kent had approached him from. But it worked to leave an impression on Kent, and that had been the point, the bait for his unwitting prey. For the rest of the duration of the party, Bruce kept an eye out for Kent so he could execute the next step of his plan – to make an unlikely friend out of Kent.

He had achieved that.

After that, it had been easy to pick exactly which points to strike to get Kent to listen to him. Even when Kent offered up differing opinions, glided in _what-if_ hypotheses which Bruce knew was really Superman speaking, Bruce had been able to shoot holes in those “hypothetical” arguments. Admittedly, Kent wasn’t a total pushover. The way Kent always went for the jugular regarding Batman and Gotham… well, Bruce could see why Kent had continued to keep his job at the Daily Planet, because Bruce had checked out the senior management of the company, and none of them had any vested interest in keeping Superman happy. Kent had really managed to keep his secret identity from a substantial number of people.

Then, somehow, their strange friendship became more.

Bruce had definitely noticed Kent’s growing interest in him, but he couldn’t see anything coming out of it, even if he had considered it as an option previously. But when Kent was already so obliging with a platonic relationship, Bruce hadn’t even thought he would need to play for something more. There was just no need for it.

Well, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t turned on the charm a little bit more afterwards. Just to see how Kent would react. He needed data, and he wasn’t actually going to do anything beyond some harmless flirting. It was something Bruce Wayne did all the time. Even his current public persona, while far more mature than ten years ago, was still somewhat of a flirt.

That had been the idea.

Then Clark had surprised him when Bruce had been visiting Metropolis for business. They had dinner at a Thai restaurant that had offered delicious and affordable food, which Clark had suggested. Dinner or lunch was sometimes a thing they did if Bruce was in Metropolis, which unbeknownst to Clark, was a lot more often than he truly needed to be, or on the rare occasion, if Clark was in Gotham chasing a story. Afterwards, Clark had invited him up to his apartment – which Bruce had already known was nearby – for drinks. He hadn’t read more into it, because well, in all the times he’d been watching Clark, his only romantic interest had been Lois Lane and she had been the more assertive one in that relationship.

It hadn’t been the most emphatic of propositions (Bruce knew _all_ about those) but it had gotten the point across.

They’d been in the kitchen; Clark was offering him something to drink, a beer or something or the other. He had been standing behind Clark, who was rummaging through his fridge, perhaps closer than he ought to have been if he weren’t sort of flirting with the other man, trying to see how much he could push. So when Clark turned around, they had been practically nose to nose. He’d seen Clark’s blue eyes flick down towards Bruce’s lips, and he’d been about to back away to leave a bit more space between them.

Then Clark had leaned in and planted one of the chastest, most fleeting kisses Bruce had ever experienced.

It had caught him unawares. Sure, he knew that there had been developing attraction on Clark’s part. But he hadn’t expected Clark to do anything about it. Not with someone who had, from the outset, been against Superman, i.e. Clark himself.

He had been stunned for a few seconds, and was pretty certain his expression showed it. He noticed Clark starting to go red in the face, probably about to stammer out some apology for presuming too much.

“Really?” Bruce had heard himself say, a predatory smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. “Who taught you how to kiss?”

Then he had swooped in, backing Clark up against the fridge as he kissed him with all the skill a billionaire playboy possessed.

So that had been that. He wasn’t quite sure why he went along with it. Perhaps it was because Clark had surprised him with his assertiveness, and he hadn’t thought Clark would be able to surprise him on this front. Then there was also the way Clark had let Bruce manhandle him while they’d been making out in Clark’s kitchen that first night. All the while, Bruce had been very conscious of the fact that he was manhandling _Superman_ , and the only reason that he could do it was because Superman was _letting_ him.

He was an adrenaline junkie, _and_ had a thing for being in control all the time. Sue him. There was no way he could be Batman otherwise.

Tactically, it appeared that it had been a good move as well. Clark was letting his guard down even more around him, and if Clark got anywhere too close to personal history that Bruce didn’t want to divulge, it had been very easy to deflect the attention elsewhere. If the situation permitted it, he generally moved things in the direction of the bedroom. Whether they made it there or not was an entirely different matter. Bruce had found that removing Clark’s glasses made it even more obvious that this was Superman. And really, the disguise was as flimsy as it was ingenious. Clark carried himself differently from Superman, was actually more aggressive than Superman especially when he was onto a lead for a story, whereas Superman tried to give off an aura of being a gentle giant. If Bruce hadn’t trained himself to notice the tiniest details, and if he hadn’t spent so much time relentlessly poring over every single photo and video recording of Superman, he probably wouldn’t have guessed that they were the same person.

It was really quite intoxicating to have the most powerful being in the known universe willingly at his mercy.

The fact that it was a very effective tactic against Clark was, if he were being honest, a secondary reason. Bruce had long known that sex, more often than not, gave people the impression that they’d shared true intimacy. That was ridiculously untrue, but it was a good approach to take. Clark seemed like he was figuring it out, but he hadn’t really done anything about it, other than maybe sometimes not going for the sex but changing topics anyway. Which had been Bruce’s endgame, so it was all good. Bruce had gotten the sense that Clark was still tentative about their relationship and how fast to push Bruce… which Bruce was milking it for all it was worth.

Batman wasn’t nice. Not by a long shot. Bruce Wayne wasn’t either.

“This will, undoubtedly, backfire on you one day, Master Bruce,” Alfred had warned.

“I’ll be ready for it.”

“No you won’t,” Alfred had replied, a strange, sad smile on his face, before he left, clearing away Bruce’s empty breakfast plates.

Looking at his current situation, Bruce had the niggling feeling that something _had_ gone wrong and he hadn’t even seen it until it was too late.

* * *

 

When Clark had texted him on Wednesday evening, asking if he would be free for the whole of Friday night so that they could spend some time in Metropolis, he had felt that perhaps something was going to happen. He was almost certain of it when Clark had later asked if Bruce could spend the night as well, instead of heading straight back to Gotham after dinner, as was his usual course of action most of the time.

Bruce gave it some thought and decided that if something urgent came up, he could always make his excuses. In the meantime, he could spend the next two nights terrorizing Gotham’s criminal underworld enough to maybe ensure a less busy Friday night.

Friday came around and it seemed like it had taken no time at all for him and Clark to be sitting at the dining table of his penthouse, delicious Chinese takeout set before them. It didn’t need to take a master detective to see that Clark was nervous about something. Probably the same something that had him asking for this meeting in the first place. Bruce had a shortlist of ideas of what that something could be, and he watched Clark, trying to shorten than list even further. By the time all the food had been eaten, Clark looked about ready to vibrate out of his seat with tension. Bruce saw no reason for them to delay the inevitable.

“Clark, sit down. That can be cleaned up later,” he interjected as Clark made to clear up the remnants of dinner as he normally did when they ate in. “Is there… Is something the matter? You were quite distracted.”

“I… I have something to tell you.”

Bruce was expecting that, but Clark didn’t have to know. He tilted his head slightly, signaling for Clark to continue.

“I know I should have told you sooner, but I wasn’t sure if we were… if something was going to come out of our friendship. Then we started dating and…”

At this point, he realized he knew exactly what Clark was planning to confess. He could feel his expression shutting down into neutrality, a mask he was pretty sure Clark had yet to be able to look past. He would give Clark something, though. Bruce was a little surprised. This option had ranked rather lower in what he thought Clark was planning to reveal.

“…and I think it is past the right time for me to tell you a secret of mine not many people are privy to.”

He had to give Clark credit. He was still maintaining eye contact with Bruce throughout all of that. There was a short pause, as if Clark was drawing strength so that he could get his next words out.

“I’m Superman.”

The next pause was lengthier. Although he had seen this coming, there was evidently still a part of him that didn’t believe it would be this… it would be over so soon. It was partly that, and partly because he wanted to see how Clark would react to his… non-reaction, that stayed his tongue.

He had thought about how he was going to have to eventually reveal that he knew all along that Clark was Superman. He hadn’t been naïve enough to think that he could conceal the truth from Clark forever. Not to mention he hadn’t really been planning to fake a romantic relationship for a substantial amount of time, even if this fake romance between him and Clark had already lasted far longer than most of his other romantic relationships. Admittedly, those had been maintained for his playboy cover, and he hadn’t really had a need to play nice with them for long.

In any case, if it did happen that Clark confessed his secret identity before Bruce could actually reveal that he knew, he had decided to not draw it out any longer. The game would’ve been up.

The longer the silence dragged on, the nervousness on Clark’s face changed into confusion, and just the slightest hint of wariness was beginning to edge into his eyes.

“Bruce?”

Was that actually a waver in Clark’s voice?

He could do Clark the same courtesy. He made sure to look straight at Clark’s eyes as he said his next words matter-of-factly, “I know.”

“You… knew?”

Really, Clark, and therefore, Superman had nothing in the way of a poker face, not even as a means to shield himself. It was a little disconcerting… and that was a strange, frivolous thought that had no business being where it was right now.

He made sure his expression was as steely as before and then replied, “Since the very beginning.”

Shock and bewilderment were the most prominent emotions on Clark’s face, which was really expressive to a fault. The stark confusion was soon replaced by dawning realization, and he could ascertain the exact moment when Clark finally understood that Bruce had been deceiving him all along. Closely on the heels of that realization, came hurt that was etched so cleanly and openly on Clark’s face that Bruce had to draw on Batman’s willpower to not visibly react.

Clark was finally seeing the real Bruce… or at least acknowledging that he didn’t actually know Bruce at all.

“Batman.”

His pulse thudded and sped up, just a little, but it was a loss of control that Bruce hadn’t experienced in some time.

No, Clark couldn’t possibly have-

“You know who Batman is.”

Relief almost made him smile, and that was his second loss of control in the span of seconds. It was _not_ acceptable.

He knew Clark wasn’t dumb. This was the closest that anyone had gotten to connecting Bruce Wayne with Batman. Even with his new public image, it was still too farfetched an idea for most people that Bruce and Batman were connected somehow.

“You’re working with Batman, aren’t you?” Clark continued speaking, even as his expression let Bruce know that he was well aware that he was just filing in the silences that Bruce left deliberately. “This… this was all reconnaissance.”

There was no point in trying to deny it. It was true. He’d undertaken this task as a means of gathering more information about Superman to determine if there was a way to incapacitate the alien being, take him out of the picture somehow if it ever came down to it. Superman had killed Zod, another alien from his planet, which proved that Superman wasn’t completely invincible. It was just unacceptable to Bruce that it would take another godlike being to subdue Superman; it would just be trading one potential threat for another. He had believed there had to be some other way to subdue Superman, and that had been why he’d decided to approach Superman, to approach Clark.

In the process, he had learnt a lot. Maybe even more than he had thought he would ever get to know.

“You know,” Clark was saying, his voice brittle, as if trying to hang on to steadiness. “If you’d wanted me to think about… about collateral damage, about valuing human lives… You didn’t need to set this all up. I’ve always been willing to talk. There wasn’t any need for this subterfuge. You’ve looked into my background, haven’t you?”

Indeed, Bruce had done just that.

“I have,” he answered. “Clark Kent had always been on the fringes of community. You weren’t close to anyone in Smallville. Everyone knew there was something… _different_ about you. You weren’t necessarily welcome anywhere, and the children picked on you. Then when you wandered America, you kept to yourself for the most part. You were always on the fringes of society, not by choice as a child, but you chose the isolation later on in life.

Humans without even a fraction of your power, without being subtly ostracized have had the power to almost destroy humanity. You were an unknown entity with the ability to destroy the world with barely a thought, and you spent most of your life living apart from society as a whole. You’ve also experienced the pettiness humanity had to offer since you were a child, and you’ve always held yourself back. What if one day you had had enough? What if you snapped? Your only ties to humanity were your adopted family, but what if that wasn’t enough? Can you even tell me how many people are you close to _and_ know that you’re Superman, even now? It was a cause for concern.

So someone had to approach you. There was a need to see how you’d react to someone who wasn’t a fan of Superman, someone who could be your friend, without you knowing that you were being observed. That was critical.”

Clark had never had a particularly good poker face, and whatever attempt at hiding his feelings had completely disappeared by the time Bruce had gotten to the end of his little speech. It wasn’t just his expression. Clark was slightly hunched over, as if subconsciously trying to make himself smaller, trying to shield himself from pain. He wasn’t quite meeting Bruce’s eyes now, and despite the number of times he’d seen Clark act differently from Superman, this was probably the first time Bruce wasn’t quite able to reconcile the fact that Clark and Superman were one and the same. It was also perhaps the first time Bruce really acknowledged that Clark was a decade younger than him. He felt strangely off balance.

The feeling sat uncomfortably in him, as if there was some kind of phantom pressure on his chest. But keeping his true feelings to himself and not letting sign of any weakness show was an art that Bruce had mastered long before he’d met Clark, long before Batman had even been conceptualized.

“Have you observed enough?” Clark asked quietly, subdued.

He was once again looking at Bruce, but it looked like he was fighting to maintain eye contact. It made Clark look awfully _vulnerable_.

“Is all of that still what you believe? Even now?”

No, he hadn’t. Because Clark was still managing to surprise him by turns. On the surface, he appeared to be easy to understand, but that wasn’t quite true.

Did he believe that Clark, that Superman was still a potential threat? Yes, because he was the Batman, and having a contingency – or multiple contingencies – for everything had served him well.

But – and Bruce had not expected that there would _be_ a “but” – he was starting to have doubts.

Yet, he was unable to verbalize any of that. The phantom pressure on his chest had gotten heavier.

Clark watched him silently, his blue eyes beseeching an answer. But Bruce was unable to give him one. A smile seemed to be trying to make its way onto Clark’s face, but it quickly fell flat without even gaining purchase.

“You know, I always felt it was too good to be true that someone like you, who could have anyone you wanted, would notice me. Me as Clark Kent. Guess I was right.”

This time, the smile _did_ make its way onto Clark’s face, but Bruce wished that it hadn’t. It was a terrible smile, a smile that exposed just how not-okay Clark was, but he was still trying to pretend that it was. Bruce didn’t know for whose benefit this terrible act was for, but he suspected it was for him. Clark, for unfathomable reasons, was trying not to make Bruce feel bad.

“But you and Batman can take heart that I’ve listened to your… concerns, and I have changed my actions and if I haven’t done enough, I’ll do better. I don’t know if either of you will trust me, but I have no plans for world domination or annihilating humanity.”

When Clark finished reassuring him – both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman – he continued to watch Bruce. As if waiting for some sort of a sign.

His mind picked that moment to recall an exchange he had with Alfred.

_“This will, undoubtedly, backfire on you one day, Master Bruce.”_

_“I’ll be ready for it.”_

_“No you won’t.”_

The phantom pressure had suddenly become crushing.

Clark looked away. “I’ll show myself out.”

Bruce couldn’t stop him.

* * *

 

After Clark’s departure, he continued to sit at the dining table, his eyes staring at the spot Clark had vacated. It felt surreal that he had had Clark, had _Superman_ , all but outright confessing to… to having genuine feelings for him. And the naked hurt on Clark’s face when he realized how Bruce had played him…

Perhaps the thing that discomfited Bruce the most was how out of sorts he was feeling regarding Clark’s reactions, Clark’s hurt and sadness…

He hadn’t anticipated his reactions to Clark, and it wasn’t just simply leaving him feeling off balance. Given another chance, he would most likely do the same thing, but he would’ve handled revealing to Clark that he knew that Clark was Superman and all that it entailed better.

What Alfred had said about his subterfuge backfiring on him… A part of Bruce felt that it was quite an accurate assessment of what was happening right now. Mostly, he still wasn’t quite able to understand why he was feeling the way he was.

It had been difficult to watch Clark leave the way he had, and yet Bruce hadn’t been able to call out after Clark to stop him. He had just sat frozen in his seat, watching Clark get up from the table to head to the coat stand and collect his coat. Bruce could only watch as Clark seemed to be getting further and further away from him, even though Clark had yet to exit his penthouse. Clark had paused at the door, and for a moment, Bruce had thought Clark would turn around. But he hadn’t. Bruce had watched as Clark quietly slipped out of the penthouse, and it felt like Clark was slipping out of his life.

It was most discomfiting because it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Not for him.

But if he was going to be honest, then this unlikely relationship he had formed with Clark was probably the longest romantic – fake or otherwise – relationship he had had with someone who didn’t know that he was Batman. Not that he had _had_ many relationships with people who knew of his vigilante identity. It was difficult to maintain a romantic relationship if he had to keep disappearing on them, and in the early days he had wanted to establish that Bruce Wayne was in no way related to Batman by portraying someone who was the absolute opposite of Batman.

What had started out as a method to study his target from up close and personal had turned… Well, it had turned far more personal than Bruce had ever anticipated, and not in a way that he would’ve predicted.

But it seemed that Alfred had seen it coming, and it was just like Alfred to be right.

Somewhere along the way, he had begun to care about Clark, and he had completely missed the signs until tonight.

It was starting to feel more suffocating the longer he stayed in his penthouse. This was the place where it had all started, where his ruse had begun in earnest, and it was also where it had all came to an end. It was unlikely he would meet Clark again, unless their day jobs crossed paths. But Bruce could minimize the chances of that happening if he limited travel to Metropolis. In actuality, he was spending significantly more time than he used to in Metropolis over these past few months. He had even overheard some of his employees joking that perhaps he was considering moving the headquarters of Wayne Enterprises to Metropolis instead.

With that in mind, he informed Alfred to expect him home that night. He hung up before Alfred could enquire into the change in plans. But although he returned to Gotham, he didn’t have Batman make an appearance.

It was probably a good thing that the next day was a Saturday and not a working day. Yes, Bruce had been picking up the “slack” during the years in which he was active as Batman, and although he had recently returned to the cowl, he hadn’t shirked his CEO duties as much. It would be far too suspicious to suddenly revert back to his playboy habits. Nevertheless, it was good that he wasn’t going to have to actually work because he couldn’t keep his attention focused. Not even when he was working on projects for Batman rather than Wayne Enterprises. Perhaps more so when he was working on Batman-related items.

His mind kept circling back to Clark, and in the past day, he had sat in front of the array of monitors that tracked Clark Kent and Superman multiple times only to force himself to walk away. He probably shouldn’t have even bothered because even if he wasn’t physically there, his mind would inevitably turn to it.

But none of his hidden cameras had picked up Clark’s image since the moment Clark had left Bruce’s Metropolis penthouse. He hadn’t returned to his own apartment, and neither had he been by the Daily Planet office. He hadn’t even gone to back to Smallville, nor to Lane’s. There had also been several incidents in which Superman would normally appear to help around America, but there hadn’t been any sign of Superman either. They weren’t particularly big incidents that truly necessitated an intervention by Superman, but it was also unlike Clark to _not_ turn up.

Alarm bells didn’t start ringing until he caught wind of the plant explosion in New Jersey. Bruce knew that casualties were pretty much a foregone conclusion, the question was just how much the damage could be limited. He watched the rescue efforts on his screens, and watched, and watched. It wasn’t until at least twenty minutes had passed before he realized what he had been waiting for.

He had expected to see a figure in red and blue appearing at the site to help.

Superman not showing up for smaller scale incidents was slightly unexpected, but for him not to make an appearance here? It was downright unusual and out of character. There shouldn’t be a reason for Clark to not show up.

 _Not unless **someone** tore him down in every. Single. Way. Possible. Then told him that it was entirely justified for all of that to happen to him,_ a spiteful, mocking voice whispered in his mind. _You wanted to find his weakness, didn’t you? Congratulations! You **have** , and you’ve exploited it **flawlessly**._

Bruce let out a frustrated, angry growl and flicked the screens off. He stalked towards the training grounds. All this anger that was building up, it was all directed inwards, towards himself. But he needed to have a safe space to let it out, lest it blow up in some other irreparable way. If he pushed himself harder, so close to his limits that it was practically another form of torture… well, that punishment was exactly what he deserved.

The next day, Bruce practically locked himself up in the Cave. He was doing a worldwide search for Clark, utilizing all legal – and some not-so-legal – means to aid in his quest. He had his supercomputers run through gigabyte upon gigabyte of data filtered from all the sources he could get his hands on, and every so often, he would look at the set of monitors he had first used to keep track of Clark to see if he had returned to any his usual abodes. All the while, Bruce tried his best to push aside the feeling that was trying to creep into his heart. Damn it all, but he was truly worried for Clark, and it was distracting. He _couldn’t_ afford distractions if he was going to find Clark.

People were already starting to notice Superman’s disappearance, and it was adding fuel to the fire of debate. Bruce usually kept track of the groups that were both for and against Superman to monitor if any group was turning a little too extreme in their views, but for the past two days, he hadn’t been able to read any of the reports his computers were dutifully compiling. He let the system run, because it was still important information, but he just couldn’t bring himself to read them.

Alfred hadn’t said anything or asked about anything regarding Clark or Superman since Bruce’s return from Metropolis. A part of him was glad for it, but another part, a part that was greater perhaps, had wanted Alfred’s censure. He was certain that Alfred knew exactly what had happened in Metropolis, and he was also certain that Alfred would’ve been appalled at how he had handled it. But his faithful, perceptive butler kept silent, working tirelessly to bring Bruce sustenance and to step in to help with anything that he could. Bruce knew that he wouldn’t have survived for this long without Alfred’s unwavering, constant presence.

God, he didn’t deserve someone like Alfred Pennyworth.

Clark didn’t deserve to meet someone like him.

It would be a lie to say that Bruce regretted all that he did. If he could do things differently, then he would not have acted on, however subtly initially, Clark’s apparent attraction towards him. It was one thing to be betrayed by a friend. It was an entirely different ball game when the betrayer was supposed to be… He didn’t even have an appropriate word to describe what they had been to each other. Maybe Clark had considered them to be partners… lovers? There wasn’t a word Bruce could find to use, and whatever Clark thought they had been, Bruce had completely dashed those hopes.

The next few hours passed fruitlessly. It seemed like when Clark Kent and Superman wanted to disappear, disappear he could. Even trying to lock on to Clark’s mobile phone signal was a no go, because apparently Clark had turned it off. Bruce still kept the tracker on to wait for the moment his mobile signal flared on, just in case.

It was until late evening when he finally picked up some noise. It was coming from one of the few microphones he’d hidden in the Kent farmhouse.

_“Clark? Clark? Can you hear me? It’s been almost two days, and I haven’t heard from you. Are you all right?”_

Martha Kent was calling out for her son. Bruce knew that Clark’s phone had yet to be turned on, so she must be relying on Clark’s super-hearing to catch her words. He hoped that she would be the one to finally draw out Clark.

She did.

Barely a minute later, Bruce heard the mic pick up the sound of a distant sonic boom, and then…

_“Hi, Ma.”_

Bruce found himself in front of that set of monitors and speakers instantly, hands flying over the controls to turn up the volume and bring up the camera feeds from the Kent farmhouse so that they filled the main screens. He didn’t have any external cameras, so he couldn’t see Clark yet. But God, to hear his voice… Bruce hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction. But Clark had gone off the grid for almost two days, and it had shaken Bruce up.

Even through the speakers, he could hear that there was something off about Clark’s voice.

_“What’s wrong, Clark?”_

_“Nothing, Ma. I just… lost track of time.”_

_“For two whole days? And also missing hearing about the plant explosion in New Jersey?”_

Bruce had always been aware that his activities as Batman were definitely illegal. He had had no illusions about himself. He was a vigilante, a criminal. So he was very aware that his spying on Clark, should anyone else find out about it, would be viewed with disgust and abhorrence. He saw it as a necessary evil, but listening to Clark trying to keep it together to fool his mother… He was starting to see how this was something he shouldn’t be listening in to. It was far too private, and he wasn’t worthy of seeing this side of Clark Kent.

_“Tell me what’s wrong, Clark.”_

_“There’s… I…”_

Still, he couldn’t move as he listened to the sound of hitched breathing from Clark and the softly spoken words from Martha as she tried to comfort her son. There were footsteps, and in a few short moments, they both appeared on the screens as Martha led Clark into the living room. Bruce couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Clark greedily, noticing at once all the details that painted a picture of absolute wrongness.

Clark was still in the clothes and coat he was wearing when he left Bruce’s penthouse. The coat was damp all over, and Bruce could see tiny melting icicles clinging to parts of it. He had the sudden vivid image of Clark standing in an icy wasteland, lost and devastated.

Alone.

Bruce had to consciously make himself unclench his fists after a few moments, but even then, he could see the deep red gouges he had made in his palms. He watched as Martha made Clark sit down on the couch, and Clark let her move him around as if he were a rag doll, his eyes wet and face blotchy. Then she was next to Clark on the couch as well, gently tugging Clark to lay on her lap like a child.

He watched as Clark clutched at his mother, curled into a fetal position on the too-small couch and sobbed harshly.

He watched, unable to tear himself away even though he knew more than ever that he was in no way justified in seeing this, as Clark told his mother – in between wracking sobs – of his relationship with Bruce and how it had all gone to pieces.

He watched as, despite everything, Clark never breathed a hint of who exactly was the man who had broken him so.

He watched as Martha did her best to soothe her son, and despite all the years he wished he still had his parents, he didn’t once feel a hint of envy as he watched mother and son together.

_“Why does it have to be so painful, Ma?”_

_“I’m so sorry, my darling boy. It’ll get better. With time. But it will, I promise.”_

It was at this point when Bruce finally, finally made himself turn off the feed. Then he slowly, methodically, shut down the monitors and disabled every single camera and microphone he had hidden to track Clark Kent. The ones in the Kent farmhouse went first, then the extensive array he had in Clark’s Metropolis apartment went next, and lastly, he cleared the ones at the Daily Planet and Lane’s apartment.

Then he found a sledgehammer and took it to the monitors.

The blaring alarms sent Alfred running down to the Cave. But by then, the expensive, state-of-the-art equipment had been reduced to useless, sparking fragments.

**Author's Note:**

> To those hoping for a Fix-It, sorry. I hadn't quite been planning for it in any case. ^^" Not sure if there will be any more to follow in this verse, but probably not? IDK, we'll see. As of now, this is probably it for the series.
> 
> I do have some ideas for more fic after watching BvS though. They're mostly angsty. *mad evil laughter*


End file.
